Photo by Taryn Elliott from Pexels
By Geoff Carter
It looks as if we’re finally over the hump. It’s the beginning of the end. Covid infections—and deaths in the U.S.—are on the decrease and shrinking daily. We’ve been told we can actually gather in public again without fearing for our health, and that those of us who are vaccinated don’t have to wear masks anymore, that we can’t catch the virus or unknowingly infect others. Those who aren’t vaccinated are only risking their own lives. We can come outside now.
So, as we tentatively stick our heads out of our front doors like cautious prairie dogs (hopefully not whack-a-moles) and begin to reacquaint ourselves with each other and the outside world, we will get back to the way things were. Our entertainment focus will start to shift from our sofas and smart TVs to theaters, festivals, nightclubs, and concert halls. We will no longer be prisoners of our pit sets. We will become pack animals again.
This is great news on any number of levels. Musicians, athletes, actors, and other performers will be able to work in front of live audiences again. Cinephiles will be able to go to movie theaters. Restaurants can begin to serve at full capacity. We will return to normalcy. But home entertainment, much as it was before the quarantine, will still be with us. The question is to what degree. Are people sick of TV and streaming videos? Are we tired of parking on the couch and bingeing on eight hours of Game of Thrones?
I personally believe that many of our friends and neighbors will fly out the door like kids on the first day of summer vacation—but, like kids on summer break, they may soon become bored or dissatisfied with the inconveniences of the outside world. Dealing with obnoxious crowds, waiting in lines, and interacting may be more challenging than they think. They might find their freedom disappointing. Having been cooped up over a year in your home—one’s kingdom, as it were—might very likely lead to unrealistic expectations of personal privilege. After being able to do whatever they pleased whenever they pleased, will people remember how to be civil? Will they still—if they ever did—give up their seat on the bus to an old lady? Will they yield right of way on the highway? Will they remember what a turn signal is? Will they start using their smartphone in a crowded theater? Will friends have loud and distracting conversations during performances?
Will citizens be able to contain themselves when others have loud and distracting conversations during performances or use their smartphones in crowded theaters? I have a feeling that many of us may begin to wax nostalgic for the good old days of the complete and utter personal autonomy of the family room. There we have the power to pause the movie, scroll through our emails, or even have a conversation during the show. We can stop in the middle of our program and start watching something else. We can rewind to parts we missed during our conversations. Try that at the Avalon Theater.
Going out is also an investment. Tickets to concerts, ball games, plays, and even movies are quite pricey. Concession stand prices at stadiums and theaters will continue to be as outrageous as ever. And what will we actually be paying for? The right to be harassed, jostled, groped, insulted, and demeaned? The right to be harangued, browbeaten, and annoyed to no end.? Streaming TV and premium channels cost a fraction of “real” entertainment.
And then there’s the hassle of getting ready. Taking a shower, putting on real pants, makeup, and brushing your teeth takes a lot of time and effort. Then there’s driving over to the venue, paying for parking, and walking half a mile to get to the place anyway. And for what? The right to sit next to some schlep at the ballgame determined to pound down two beers every inning? Or the know-it-all in front of you who keeps misquoting Yogi Berra? No. The truth is that going out is overrated.
There’s a lot to be said for staying at home. It’s predictable, safe, comfortable, and controllable. It’s the last bulwark of complete individual freedom. Where else can someone watch what they want when they want, have total fingertip control of the entertainment, dress—or underdress—as they please, eat as much as they want, and still pay little to no attention to personal hygiene? And there are absolutely no surprises.
The people we encounter at home are completely predictable. We know exactly how Tony Soprano will react when he learns his mother (or his horse) has died. We will understand the depth of Tyrion Lannister’s anger at his father and how he can do the unspeakable. We know them. We know what they’ll do. They won’t surprise us, betray us, or cheat us. We’ve grown used to being so comfortable with them—and with our home environment—that we might find it difficult to venture out anymore.
Tens of thousands of people will now be working from home—by choice, not by necessity. Even though work may contain its share of unpleasant surprises and unsavory people, it is much easier to deal with from home than to travel through rush hour traffic in order to spend the day in a sterile room of uniform cubicles.
One must wonder. Alienation is a trend. It has been for a long time. The average American is glued to his/her smartphone for an average of four hours every day. That’s half a workday of complete isolation, half a day of not looking someone in the eye. We may be communicating with others over WIFI, but only in the most basic sense. And this begs the question, has this recent health crisis accelerated this process of alienation and isolation? Will the safe zones we’ve occupied over the last year remain our refuges, or will we venture out into the unknown to meet our fellow human beings—to be disappointed, frustrated, annoyed—and amazed by them.
I don’t know, but don’t touch that dial.
